Pin 2: Eyes

Eleven.

I had learned a lot about Madison Bell over Christmas vacation. First and foremost, she had very few friends outside of school. Though she considered none of her relationships superficial, for lack of a better word, they truly were. She took everyone’s interests and feelings and passions very seriously and would always accommodate whoever she could in whatever way she could. It was no wonder why she was so universally admired.

Secondly, Madison Bell was probably quite rich. After my first visit to her five-bedroom colonial on the north side of town, I felt foolish for gifting her ten dollars, even if the gesture was only symbolic. She had an older sister who had graduated last year and was accepted into Penn State for a degree in Behavioral Research.

Thirdly, and arguably the most important, Madison Bell liked to hand-make her holiday gifts. She didn’t celebrate Christmas because her parents weren’t religious, but that didn’t hinder her in making me a string bracelet and a knitted pair of mittens. I would absolutely never wear the mittens, but I kept the bracelet on all the time, even when I was sleeping.

But the more I learned about Madison, the less sure I was that I knew anything at all. It had taken me months to figure out only a small fraction of this girl, and each moment we spent together brought more and more questions.

Why weren’t her parents ever home?

“They’re busy people,” she told me.

If she had a driver’s license, why didn’t she drive?

“Cars are expensive,” she told me.

Why did she watch TV with the volume so low?

“I like subtitles,” she told me.

Why was she so fast at texting sometimes, and so slow other times?

“I don’t pay a lot of attention to my phone,” she told me.

And then there were the No Days.

<< Hey Polly is still at her grandma’s. Want to catch a movie?

>> I cant today

<< Anything wrong?

>> No I’m okay

<< Do you want to talk about anything?

>> No I’m okay thank you though

<< Should I be worried?

>> Don’t worry everything is fine I just cant today

Her No Days weren’t exceedingly common, but nor were they few and far between. One week, she had three No Days in a row, and the next she had only one at the end of the week. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason.

Once the new year began, I started making plans in advance. A day forward, sometimes two, to test the waters. The Sunday before school started up again, we had plans to get dinner together. Finally, I had organized a situation where Polly and Madison could share more than a few minutes together. But at the last minute, she cancelled.

<< It’ll be fun. I promise Polly doesn’t bite.

>> I know I cant today I’m so sorry

<< Why not? I know you didn’t make other plans.

>> I just cant

<< You always say that. Come on, tell me what’s up.

That last text was a mistake. I knew it the second I sent it. “You always say that”; what a shitty thing for a friend to write. Madison didn’t text back after that. I didn’t see her until school the next day.

As a final note on the mysteries of Madison Bell: though I had unravelled her smiles, defined her friendships, and decrypted many of her words, one thing in particular always eluded me. Some days, when I saw her, Madison’s eyes would shine brighter than the stars in the countryside. They would swirl like chocolate syrup spun through milk. On those days, her eyes could put her smile to shame. And on other days, they were colored in with a single click of the fill tool on Microsoft Paint, dull and simple and quiet. And these two Madisons were completely different people.

Worse yet, though I was supposed to be her friend, though I had wondered and worried about it for weeks, I still had absolutely no idea what any of it meant.